The Wistful Letter
Fotis Samaras remembered the weight of the rain before the cold. He stood in the courtyard of the garrison, the water slicking the cobblestones into a dark, reflective mirror that showed him only his own distorted reflection. The Colonel stood behind the heavy oak desk, his face a mask of bureaucratic indifference, refusing to look up from the file. Fotis wanted his brother, Nikos, released....
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